That Which Has Lived
by SapphireSecret
Summary: Can Never Live Again. Or so most people think – most conventional people. But since when have our heros been conventional? Or, for that matter...our villains, which Ed and Al discover first hand when they wake up far from home. This is their adventure to not only fix what they have done, but what has been done to them.


**Title: That Which Has Lived**

**Date Completed: January 30****th****, 2013**

**Unimaginative Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.**

**Chapter One: The Void**

* * *

There was no sound, because there was nothing to hear. There was nothing to see, either, or to smell, taste, or – most disconcertingly – to feel. He had never realized how much one felt simply by standing on something solid, by feeling the subtle pressure of gravity pushing one down. Here, in this whiteness, this void, he wasn't doing anything other than merely exist.

Edward parted his mouth slightly and breathed in, his gaze wondering aimlessly over nothing. He could feel the chill of air passing through his lips and the almost imperceptible relief of it filling his lungs. It was very loud, suddenly, the rush of breath entering his body. Ed held it there, his lungs a balloon close to popping. The feeling of his heart beating in his chest seemed to become very pronounced. Ed blinked, and realized even that had a rather loud clicking sound. Exhaling, he felt the warm caress of breath breeze past his lips as his chest relaxed back down on itself.

Edward closed his eyes – which gave an interesting feeling of weight and warmth – and drifted there, neither standing or laying down, or really doing anything at all, feeling numb and the slightest bit tingly. No thought in particular crossed his mind. It seemed to buzz with sheer emptiness.

Ed felt...peaceful.

Tranquil as he was, Ed thought he could have stayed there, floating, sleepily existing in the white void forever, if not for a thought – or not so much a thought as a nearly imperceptible sense of discontent, a slight awareness of something being not _quite _right – niggling in the back of his mind. It didn't go away, and as it began creating the smallest of disturbances in his calm, he felt the gears in his head begin to turn sluggishly.

_This isn't normal, _something in him quietly realized._ This isn't right. You're never this relaxed. Why would you be now?_

It was so faint that Edward easily overlooked it and continued drifting – not really happy, or even very comfortable, but adequate, as a lack of anything is also lack of any pain. He may have continued like this for years, or days, or maybe just seconds, but eventually he just couldn't let himself be, and his brain continued:

_Where is Alphonse? Where is Mom?_

Ed's eyes snapped open as his already conspicuous heartbeat raced in his chest, increasing the throbbing in his whole body. The whiteness stunned him for a second (it was so bright, there was nothing else, one could surely go mad surrounded by so much _nothing)_ before Ed automatically began searching, his eyes flicking all over. An emotion_ – __Fear? Worry? Panic? –_ rose up in his chest, burning like bile as it churned on its way up.

He tried to look around, but the simple act of turning his head was enormously difficult. With much more effort than he knew he should ever have needed for something so small, he looked all around him, the joints in his neck creaking loudly as he moved – but there was nothing. The void had no depth. It gave an impression of vastness that astounded him, as it seemed to go on forever, yet pressed up against his eyes at the same time. Maybe the whiteness went on indefinitely, beyond the Earth and stars; maybe he was in a box, the walls just beyond his fingertips. Edward couldn't tell.

The longer Ed tried to find something, anything for his eyes to focus on, the more a feeling of confusion and nauseating vertigo began assaulting him. The only things he could see were his pale, naked limbs stretched out before him, suspended in the white void without any purchase. They looked very odd to him, since there was no definite light source, and therefore no shadows or illuminated spots where a light would glance off of his skin. His blonde bangs, so long they could almost reach his mouth, floated above his forehead.

Edward's stomach churned. Seeing himself hanging clothes-less and defenseless in this white nothing, where not even gravity touched him, was more than disturbing. His heart beat faster than ever, making blood rush in his veins and a sharp headache begin beating around his ears. After such little stimulation it was almost overwhelming – but Ed was nothing if not stubborn. There was still one place he couldn't see: behind him. For all Ed knew this emptiness wasn't as complete as he thought.

With agonizing slowness, Ed managed to move his arms and legs. The air – whiteness, whatever he was moving through – was thick and heavy, as if he was suspended in molasses. The heartbeats in his limbs and chest grew stronger, and he felt warmth burgeoning in his muscles as he struggled to turn around. He was like a fish without a tail, uselessly flailing the rest of his fins in the water but with nothing to propel himself forward with.

Or maybe he _was_ moving, but he couldn't tell. There was nothing to mark his movement with.

The burning in Ed's chest, the feeling like bile and stomach acid burning in his throat worsened. His head was spinning. Where was his family? What was this great white _hell? _How had he been so content earlier, so dead, when this was obviously so terrible? It built in his chest, in his throat and head and ears, whistling and burning and making him blink back tears.

It intensified, the whistling turned to shrieking and the burning so hot it was like an inferno, and he let it. It made him want to let it all out, to expel it from his body as violently and thoroughly as he could. He wanted it gone, he wanted to go home, he wanted all of these feelings to _go away –_

He took a deep breath, the deepest he ever took, his chest expanding more and more –

**"HEEEY!"**

An explosion of air exited his mouth, his throat itching from the stress and his vocal cords vibrating so hard he felt it in the bones around them, rattling in his skull. But that was it. There had been words he was going to say after that, but they shriveled and died on his tongue. Frosty shock spread from Ed's heart to his fingers and toes like little ice soldiers marching down his limbs.

There had been no sound.

"Hey! Hey, where am I?" Ed tried again desperately, but no sound exited his mouth. He could hear the passage of air, and could feel the vibrations from his voice box in his throat spreading to his mouth and chest, but...no sound. Ed kept trying, going all the way through his extensive collection of invectives that he and Winry had worked on that he knew would get him into big trouble if he let even one slip out in front of Mom or Granny, but that didn't even matter because _no one could hear him. _Not even himself. It would be better if Mom and Granny could hear all of them, if only he were with them and they were safe. But there was nothing. No one. He was more isolated than he'd ever been in his life.

Some unidentifiable emotion curled up deep in his chest like an animal waiting to die, and Ed sagged with exhaustion. Nothing was coming of struggling to move or attempting to speak anyway. He hung limply in the white blankness for what could have been hours, or maybe just a few minutes. It seemed as if time had no relevance here, and frankly, neither did anything else.

Was he dead?

The thought chilled him as if someone had injected ice in his veins. Ed's mouth went dry, and suddenly he couldn't just feel his pulse, but hear it drumming in his ears. He couldn't – _couldn't_ be dead! He had a family to take care of! Al and Mom, they_needed_ him – Mom needed him to help with chores and raising Al – his baby brother, who was so little, even littler than him and Winry, and he was___sick_ right now – and, and how would Mom pay for medicine, clothes, and stuff without the things he made with alchemy? She couldn't, not all on her own when she already wasn't feeling well herself – so he_____couldn't_ be dead, it didn't even make sense because he didn't even_______remember_ dying –

"Edward."

His panicked thoughts shattered, his muscles tensing. The voice had an echoing quality as if it were very far away, yet didn't seem to come from any particular direction, or perhaps from everywhere at once. Ed struggled with himself to twist his aching neck around, searching for the speaker. All around him was blank emptiness, and it was only when he looked directly above him that he saw something he knew for a fact had not been there before – and his face split into a broad, shining, _relieved _grin. The sheer sense of reassurance of something being a bit_normal,_ of there being___something_ that he could tangibly see, no matter what or who or how strange it was in this blank, empty whiteness, made him want to laugh aloud.

Hovering a dozen feet or so above Edward was a huge slab of stone, probably about as tall as his house, with an intricate carving of a great tree on it. There were names and carved figures along the grey branches, some of which Ed thought might have been alchemic symbols, but he couldn't be sure without getting closer. In front of the huge stone, and seeming quite small in comparison, was a teenage boy, much like the ones who towered over him, Al, and Winry at the school yard. He was facing Ed as if he were laying on a bed glued to the ceiling, or was standing on a vertical floor Ed hadn't been made aware of. There were several things about him that leaped to attention; he was naked, and his right arm and left leg were cut clean off above the shoulder and at mid thigh, giving him a very lopsided look. Metal automail ports were attached to his stumps, but the prosthetic limbs they would have connected his nerves to were gone. He had long blonde hair past his shoulders that, without gravity to hold it down, floated around his head like a rich golden halo. One thing in particular seemed to stick out to Ed though: his face. It was incredibly, almost frustratingly familiar, though he knew that he had never met this boy before. The shape of his nose, mouth, and jaw, and the angle of his eyebrows were all combined in a face that Ed recognized instantly but could not place. More familiar than anything though were his _eyes_, which were a bright, clear gold, a color he had only ever seen in himself, Al, and their good-for-nothing father.

"Edward," the teenage boy repeated, his expression as blank as their surroundings. His voice seemed so loud, so _fresh _after hearing nothing but his heart and lungs. The strange, distant quality to it, as if he was yelling from across a great distance instead of hovering just above him, seemed all the more strange now that he could see him.

As he stared up at this person, Ed abruptly remembered with stark awareness that he was naked as well.

Edward's face grew so hot he could imagine it was glowing. He hadn't really been concerned about this before, as convinced as he had been of his complete solitude, but now that this guy (at least the teenager wasn't a girl!) had gotten here, he suddenly wished very much that he had clothes. As quickly as he could, Ed strained against the heavy white atmosphere to tuck his knees up to his chest and thrust an arm between his legs, hiding his nakedness. A glance up at the boy showed that he was entirely unaffected by their surroundings; not by either of their lack of clothing, or the sheer emptiness of this place, or even his missing limbs. He was utterly expressionless.

"Ed," the crippled teenager said. His strange voice sounded as if it might have been closer, and his gaze remained as blank and unwavering as before.

Working his jaw open, Ed tried to respond. It was wishful thinking, but perhaps since this teenager was able to, he would somehow be able to speak now. He wanted to ask him where he was, demand to know how the teenager knew his name, curse at him, or just do anything _other_ than float there mutely – but he couldn't make a sound.

Perhaps the dead were not allowed to talk. Or maybe this was his own personal hell: to have so many questions, but not be able to find the answers.

"Full metal," the teenager said, his voice seemingly even closer. Edward stared up at him, nonplussed. What was that supposed to mean? _Full metal._ It didn't even make sense, grammatical or otherwise. Unless he had misheard?

Unable to answer, Ed glared up at the older kid until he could figure it out. Moron.

"Edward," he said again, but this time, Ed's heart thumped especially hard as he saw something he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed before:

The teenager's mouth wasn't moving.

"Full metal." The voice sounded closer than ever, almost as if it was in the same area as Ed and the teenager, but Ed couldn't see anyone else. It seemed to come from every direction at once.

For the first time, the teenage boy suspended above him moved. He blinked and glanced at himself. His remaining arm and leg moved a bit, and the boy slowly, with his tendons bulging with effort, turned his head around and saw the slab of carved stone, before turning back to face Ed.

He blanched, an expression of horror crossing his face as he seemed to notice Ed for the first time.

What was so terrible about _him_? The teenager wasn't scared of the huge slab of rock hovering above him – though for the teenager Ed supposed it wouldn't be above him, but behind him, direction being as relative as it was here – or even seem to notice his nakedness. He didn't even seem intimidated by the white void they were suspended in. If anything, he appeared as if he was confirming something he had expected to happen – but then was shocked by _Ed_ of all things?

An expression of urgency crossed the teenager's face, and he began to shout. Or rather, Ed thought he might have been trying to shout, but since he didn't actually make any noise he couldn't tell. Slowly, struggling for every inch, the teenager raised his remaining arm and pointed direly down at Ed. His arm was shaking, quivering with tension.

"Edward!" The voice was close now, and definitely not the teenager's. It was still coming from every direction.

What was it? Who was it?

And what was this guy wanting? He was obviously trying to communicate something, but for the life of him Ed couldn't tell what it was. Still shouting, the teenager's face was turning red as Edward stared up at him incomprehensively. Surely he realized he wasn't making a sound?

("Full metal!" The voice echoed from everywhere, sounding extremely close.)

The trembling finger the teenager was pointing down at him shifted a bit to the side, then back at Ed. It might have just been his arm struggling to maintain it's position in the density of the white void, but as Edward saw the teenager's wide, familiar eyes and desperately moving mouth working so hard to tell him _something_, he really didn't think so. Inch by inch, Ed fought with the heavy void around him to move his neck, which was really starting to hurt by now, down so that his chin was tucked against his collar bone.

("Ed! Edward!")

He saw it immediately, his heart jumping into his throat. Just a few feet beneath Ed was a giant slab of hard gray stone parallel to the one up above the teenager, identical down to the last carefully carved detail. It was so large he couldn't even see all of it from his vantage point.

("Ed!")

Ed lifted the arm that was not protecting his modesty and, with exhausting, nearly painful slowness, extended it fully and swung it through the thick white atmosphere.

Edward observed with a sense of satisfaction that, yes, he _could _move, he just couldn't see it before. A look at both stones proved as much, even though he hadn't actually felt anything. The one by Ed had changed position so that it was no longer under him but behind him, and had shifted away by about a foot. Glancing painfully at the teenager showed that he, too, was no longer in the same place. He and the stone slab behind him were just a bit closer, and had moved down from above Ed and was now in front of him, still parallel to it's twin stone. It was a strange, very sudden change of perspective. The crippled teenager, still shouting and beginning looking extremely frustrated, now looked as if he were "standing" on the same floor as Ed.

("Full metal!")

Suddenly, a change appeared in the teenager's expression. He was no longer urgent or desperate, but _panicked, _the finger pointing very obviously at the stone behind Ed. As quickly as he could, Ed turned and saw that a crack had appeared along the middle of the stone, so straight and symmetrical there was no way it was natural. The crack began to grow larger, revealing inky blackness beyond the stone. It continued growing, and by the time it was a couple of inches wide Ed realized it wasn't a crack, but two halves of the stone opening outward like – a _doorway._

It was a way out!

Hope and excitement swelled in his chest like a balloon, a brilliant contrast to the fear and confusion that he'd been feeling for such a long time in this void. A silly grin spreading across his face, Edward awkwardly propelled himself toward the door, attempting to peer into the darkness beyond the doors. Placing his hands on the cool, slightly coarse stone (which felt so _fantastic _after feeling nothing at all he had to smother a giggle), he looked into the crack between the doors, which was almost big enough now for him to fit his head through – _and it looked back at him._

A completely silent shout escaped Edward's lips, and he used both his hands and feet to push against the stone doors, launching himself several feet away with a power he couldn't have accomplished without a solid anchor. His warm bubble of hope had been extinguished as thoroughly and suddenly as if a bucket of water had been dumped on the winking embers of an abandoned campfire.

The doors opened slowly, revealing dozens of horrible bright eyes leering at him, and twisted mouths with sharp, carnivorous teeth grinning hungrily from the shadows. The velvety blackness beyond the doorway was as utterly pure as the whiteness of the void, the difference being that the void gave an impression of total emptiness, whereas the doors were hiding things in their gloom, like closets held monsters that little kids were scared of but worse because this was terribly, irrefutably _real, _not some spooky concoction of a kid's imagination that a big brother could scare away.

"Edward!" The voice shouted once more, and it seemed to come from beyond the doorway, but there was no way Edward was going in there. "Ed! Edward!"

The great stone doors opened all the way as Edward stared, trembling with sheer, paralyzing _terror,_ unable to so much as try to cover his nakedness due to the unmitigated fear coursing through his body.

The pitch-blackness _shifted_ beyond the doorway through which the eyes and teeth glistened perversely_,_ as if there were unseen creatures that were writhing in the shadows. As Edward watched, tendrils of darkness began slithering out into the emptiness of the white void. This seemed to jump start Ed's brain, and he began fighting, struggling as hard as he could against the dense white atmosphere around him, trying to get far away from that _thing._

("EDWARD!" The screams from the doorway were panicked, just like the teenager's face. Why hadn't Ed noticed that before? This guy wouldn't have been freaked out at the arrival of an exit, stupid,_ stupid_ Elric –)

The black tentacles wound like ribbons of ink falling through water toward Edward, who noticed hysterically that at the ends of the tendrils were _hands, _little black hands like ones that would belong to babies, _reaching for him –_

The eyes were winking cheerfully from the darkness, there were _dozens_ of them, and the mouths were grinning, laughing –

("ED!")

Edward was _trying_, but he could barely move by inches – the air was so thick it was like trying to swim through sand, and the hands were like fish in water, they weren't slowed at all –

A hand grabbed him by the ankle, and Ed _screamed_, though he made no sound. Any progress he was making was halted, and another grabbed him, a tendril of shadows wrapping around his calf like a snake. He was dragged backward, toward this _thing_, this looming monster in the doorway.

Kicking and flailing as well as he could (which wasn't much kicking or flailing at all), Ed struggled as more hands wrapped around his bare skin, pulling, tugging him to his doom. They felt like the sharp edge of a knife when it scraped against your skin but didn't cut yet, sharp and rough and dangerous, and although it wasn't painful yet, you knew if you kept it up blood was going to be drawn.

("FULL METAL!")

Ed gasped for breath, and realized that he hadn't stopped screaming yet. Tears were streaking down his cheeks, and the breaths he did take in were badly disguised sobs. The hands were all over his legs, binding them together like black, squirming ropes. More were reaching up his body, grasping his waist, sharp little fingers scrabbling for purchase on his back.

Edward cast a hopeless, tearful look out at the teenager. His remaining arm was outstretched as if he wished to help Ed but couldn't move, and he was silently shouting the same thing over and over again, desperation shining in his gold eyes. He looked pretty weak, floating there naked, looking all lopsided with only one arm and one leg, dwarfed by his own huge stone doors, which remained firmly shut.

(_He was going to die here, wasn't he?)_

They had pulled him to the doorway. Ed scrambled for his one last hope, his short fingernails scraping on the stone. He managed to grab the edge of the doorway with one hand, and pulled at it with all of his strength. He pulled away from the eyes and teeth in the blackness infinitesimally, but dark tendrils crept along the stonework and began picking at his fingers.

"No! Please, please no!" Edward sobbed in silence, as the little baby hands pried up each finger one by one. He frantically clawed and scrambled against the stone door, his fingernails bleeding and leaving little red trails. The hands were pulling at him, one reaching up and grasping his collar bone in its little fingers, tugging sharply. Another grabbed a fistful of hair on his scalp and yanked. The shadows were licking at him, surging thickly up his legs like a wave of black gelatin, hundreds of fingers spreading stickily over his chest and shoulders, and up his neck and arms, pulling at him, sucking him into the darkness.

("FULL METAL!")

The stone doors were closing over Edward, abandoning him, naked and helpless in this mute darkness with these watching eyes, squeezing little hands, and grinning, hungry mouths, unable to have even the small satisfaction of screaming. He would give anything to be back in the whiteness, where at least nothing would hurt him –

Edward wanted to go _home –_

("EDWARD!" The screaming echoed in his ears, louder than ever.)

The hands were everywhere, constricting, preventing even the smallest of movements. The doors were an inch from closing, allowing only a sliver of brilliant light to spill in between them, through which the teenager could be seen, still screaming. Ed stared out desperately into the brightness like a man dying of thirst staring at the glass of water placed just out of his reach.

At last, with the doors just a hair's breadth from shutting, the crippled teenager's shout reached him, muffled as if by a dense fog. It was so quiet it could have been a whisper from across a room, but Edward would have recognized those words anywhere:

"_Save Alphonse!"_

The doors closed with finality, darkness closed in, and everything was gone.

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**A/N: Sorry to anyone who got a million updates about this new story, I was having difficulties with the website. Constructive criticism is appreciated. This is chapter seem weird to you? Was it confusing? Too long for the content? Was it just freakin' awesome? Let me know, please.**


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